I know I talk too much.

If you’re on the “watch Liz find her way to the main point” ride, settle in, bring a sandwich and stay hydrated. It’s gonna be a while.

I do battle with words every day. They offer themselves nonstop at break-neck speeds and leave me panting. Like the crazy cat lady who lives down the road, I let them in and feed them and they stay. We’re all mostly happy with this current arrangement but there are days when a little head silence would be nice.

Enter the humble and restrained haiku. The first one I ever encountered was written by seventeenth century poet Mizuta Masahide and mimed for me by theologian Matthew Fox my senior year in college:

Since my house burned down
I now have a better view
of the rising moon

How could someone say so much with so little, and within the confines of a 5-7-5 syllabic construct? At the time I was enchanted but saw no future in it. I took my theology/philosophy major and talked my way through careers in campus ministry and volunteer resources management. Heck, one faith community even let me preach (funny, wordy as I am, I never broke the seven-minute homily. Who says faith can’t be efficient as well as inspiring?).

It’s only recently that I’ve dipped my toes back into the pool of the Succinct, with brevity as my swim goggles. It’s hard but strangely soothing at the same time. As a daily practice, I think it could even be therapeutic. So, I’m giving it another go, from the vantage point of someone with a few decades in the rear view mirror and the desire to say more with less.

Deer walking the field.
They watch me walking too, but
I’m not as graceful.

Come back tomorrow, or a couple days from now and we’ll see what lands here.

Arigato.